Page 97 of The Pawn
“You’re where your husband wants you to be.”
My husband.
Panic has my heart dropping to my stomach.
Malek.
The sound of laughter comes from outside. As if on cue, Malek walks into the house. The man whose nose is still bleeding stands and steps backward like a soldier respectful or afraid of his commander. Malek doesn’t even acknowledge him. He just looks at me.
It takes all I have not to physically shudder in his presence. His gaze. Because this man? He hates me. He hates my family. And he fucking terrifies me.
“Good. You’re awake.” Malek grins. He’s dressed in military fatigues. So is the other soldier and the two that follow him in.
The only one not dressed for battle is Enzo.
Enzo looks back at me, gaze level and undisturbed. I trusted him. After I saw him kill those men in the SUV to save me, I trusted him. Was it all for show?
And Cassian. What about Cassian, who has trusted him for all his life?
“Traitor,” I mutter. It’s all I can do. All I can think. He betrayed Cassian and he betrayed me and that betrayal will cost us dearly. I know it in my bones.
I glance down at my butchered hands with their missing digits. What will Malek take from me next?
Malek steps closer, grips my chin and forces my head backward. His fingers dig into my skin as he looks me over, a triumphant grin on his face.
I want to get up, to stand and face him, but with my ankles tied as they are, I can’t.
His gaze zeroes in on my hands. His grin vanishes, replaced by pure fury. He bends to grab my hands and roughly pulls Cassian’s ring from my finger. He looks at it in his palm, a sneer on his face.
“Where is the ring I gave you, wife?”
“Don’t call me that!”
He makes a fist around that ring and leans close, close enough that when he speaks, spittle lands on my cheek. “But you are that,” he hisses, and throws Cassian’s ring across the room. It bounces off the wall and lands in a pile of dust and debris. “I thought you would cherish such a prized possession as your mother’s ring, but I see I was wrong.”
“Don’t you dare speak of her, you fucking murderer. Don’t you fucking dare!”
He snorts, grin returning, eyes narrowing. “My contrary, unruly wife. I will take you in hand soon enough.”
“I will be a widow before the night is over,” I hiss.
He collects himself. “Not if I make myself a widower first.”
He looks at the soldier who’s holding his nose, his head tilted back to staunch the bleeding. “What the hell?” Malek asks him.
“She head butted me. It came out of nowhere.”
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Malek mutters. “She was unconscious, you fool!” He shakes his head.
“Where the hell are we?” I ask.
“You don’t recognize it? The house belongs to you. Well, to us, technically, since I’m your husband. Although, it hasn’t been used in over fifty years.”
I don’t know this place. I glance over his shoulder, but nothing is familiar. I’ve never been here.
“The lake house,” he says.
“Lake house?” I recall my father mentioning a lake house a long time ago. I’m not sure he’s ever been here. It’s dilapidated. Unusable. Because it’s butts up to land that has been disputed between the Trevino and the Moretti families for as long as I can remember and it has a violent history for both of our families, but especially ours.
